


I Feel It In My Bones (enough to make my systems blow)

by hangsondoong



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Celebratory Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Most explicit thing I've ever written, My First Work in This Fandom, The Drift (Pacific Rim), Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangsondoong/pseuds/hangsondoong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of the final battle, and the expected drunken "canceling the apocalypse" party, Herman and Newt begin to acknowledge the bond that has grown between them. </p>
<p>
  <i>Hermann’s world narrowed to the brilliant, stupid genius man beside him, one arm around his shoulders, the other a victorious fist in the air, and Hermann smiled. He could feel Newton’s embrace, and he could feel it spark little residual scraps of the drift in his head.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel It In My Bones (enough to make my systems blow)

They had done it. 

They had won. 

The cheering echoed tinny and distant in Hermann’s ears as the Shatterdome was filled to bursting with joyful noise. 

They had won. 

Hermann simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it – and _that_ was a rare occurrence. Too much celebration and too much sorrow, too much jubilation and too much grief. He closed his eyes, feeling himself relax from the rigid desperation of the last few months. 

Well, the last few _years_ , if he was being honest. 

Hermann’s world narrowed to the brilliant, stupid _genius_ man beside him, one arm around his shoulders, the other a victorious fist in the air, and Hermann smiled. He could feel Newton’s embrace, and he could feel it spark little residual scraps of the drift in his head. 

It felt like champagne. 

It felt like victory. 

 

 

A number of people had spilled into the control room: workers and pilots and techs, mingling with frequent hugs and handshakes. Raleigh was talking eagerly with Tendo, though his hand never left Mako’s as she thanked a group of the higher-level floor techs. 

From a distance, Hermann watched Newton stride up and join Raleigh and Tendo’s conversation. Their hand gestures were all bold and animated, their eyes bright.

The _life_ in the control room was palpable: more so than it had been in months. 

Newton turned around, searching the crowd behind him. Just as Hermann was about to leave the control room for somewhere more quiet, Newton seemed to spot him, and scarpered over. 

“Hey, Hermy! C’mon, you haven’t even had anything to drink – Tendo’s got something you’ve got to try,” Newton said in a rush, wrapping an arm around Hermann again, and Hermann found himself swept back into the party before he could even get out a word of protest. 

 

 

A number of hours later, people had begun to collapse on various surfaces, and Hermann found himself, sans-cane, using Newton to keep himself upright as they roamed the corridors in comfortable silence. Pain began to inch up Hermann’s bad leg, however, and he gripped Newton’s arm tighter, asking, “Newton? I would like – would like to find a place to sit down.” 

Newton, who was more than a bit drunk, stared at Hermann’s face uncomprehendingly until something clicked and he smiled, nodding. 

They made their way to a series of steps arching up from the hallway, and settled on the bottom step. Leaning on Hermann’s shoulder, Newton began to nod off. 

There was quiet here now, and still Hermann found himself unable to tear his thoughts away from the man at his side. 

Hermann shifted, pulling out the arm Newton seemed to be using as a pillow, and wrapped it around the man’s back comfortingly. Newton – not as asleep as he looked, apparently – tilted his head up, looking directly into Hermann’s eyes. 

Hermann was struck by this contact. Sometime in the melee, Newton’s glasses had disappeared along with Hermann’s cane, and now Newton’s face was empty – innocent – his eyes squinting against the glare of the corridor lights, red-rimmed from the days and days without sleep. 

He was beautiful. 

Hermann couldn’t take his eyes off the soft curve of Newton’s cheeks, the lines of doubt running between his gorgeous, tilted brows. A few locks of dark hair fell across Newton’s forehead, and Hermann brushed them back with a shaky hand. 

When Newton’s lips lifted in a tired smile, Hermann let his hand drop to cup the man’s cheek. 

Newton seemed to regain a bit of consciousness. “Wha– what? What happened?” 

Hermann stifled a sigh of disappointment. “What do you remember?” he asked. 

“We... dude, did we win? Did that happen?” 

Hermann began to giggle uncontrollably. This was not his life. He did not share minds with an idiot scientist and a deceased alien monster, in order to save the world. He did not watch his team detonate a bomb in a dimensional portal. And he most definitely did not find himself pining for the drunken fool who seemed to have both forgotten his existence _and_ decided to use him as a bed. 

Definitely not. 

Now, however, Newton was looking at him as though _Hermann_ was the one who’d abruptly lost his memory. Hermann shook his head against the man’s apparent concern, and tried to pick himself up off the bloody step. 

And failed miserably. 

Hermann ended up on the metal grating of the floor, flat on his back, with most of Newton on top of him, and with a throbbing leg that hurt worse than before. However he’d managed such a tumble, Hermann doubted he’d be able to make his own way back to his bunk now.

But Newton was looking decidedly more sober. “Hermann, I’m so sorry– are you alright? Can I help? Are you hurt – how is your leg?” 

Managing to harrumph decently, Hermann used Newton’s waiting arms to pull himself back up to a standing position. Breathing heavily, he clutched Newton’s waist for support, and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on not falling backwards. 

The hallway was spinning. 

It spun worse when Hermann felt a pair of lips that could only be Newton’s press against his own. The kiss was brief, and mostly one-sided, and _perfect_.

Hermann’s eyes snapped open in shock. 

Newton looked a little apologetic, and a little hopeful, and more than a little terrified. After glancing quickly at Hermann’s face, his eyes focused determinedly on the floor. 

That was enough of a sign for Hermann. He leaned forward, and brought his forehead to Newton’s, cupping a hand around the man’s cheek, like before. 

When Newton began to raise his head again, Hermann brought their mouths clashing together. He attacked Newton’s lips with his own, feeling them open wide to accommodate him. To bring them closer, Hermann wrapped his arms around the man, hugging their bodies together, pressing them chest to chest. Newton relaxed into his arms, a soft moan coming out muffled from between his occupied lips. 

Hermann began to slow down the fervency of his teeth at ravaging the lips of the man before him, and he shifted until he could put both of his hands at the small of Newton’s back. Only then did he lean back and look at Newton once more. 

Newton looked stunned, but after a few seconds, he smiled an enormous grin. “Can we – can we go back to your bunk?” he asked, “I’m exhausted.” 

Hermann couldn’t decide what to do with his face, he was so happy, so he simply tightened his thin lips and nodded, bracing himself against the doctor firmly as they shuffled down the corridor. 

Only now, they had a definite direction. 

 

 

Hermann woke up to a soft snoring sound in his ear. 

His bunk was dark, but warm. Beneath a thick layer of blankets, Newton lay stretched half atop him, breathing peacefully in his sleep. 

Hermann tucked his chin down against his chest to look at Newton's face. His eyelids were fluttering; he was on the edge of consciousness. Herman licked his lips nervously. 

Mumbling, "The portal, the _plan–_ ," Newton began to nuzzle closer to Hermann, shifting restlessly. 

These desperate movements were worrisome; Hermann nudged Newton's shoulder in an attempt to wake him. 

This only make Newton flail more. One of his legs jerked, and he collapsed onto Hermann, straddling both of Hermann's legs with his own. Hermann, worried for his own bad leg, grabbed Newton's shoulders and _shook_. 

Newton woke up instantly. 

“Ah! It’s–! It’s... over, isn’t it?” Newton’s voice was growly and cracked with sleep. 

Hermann fell back, limp, against the pillows. “I think we do need to get your brain checked, Dr. Geiszler,” he said. 

“Nah, I got it,” Newton countered. “Last night’s a bit fuzzy, but I’m all good.” He yawned. “Also, dude, no ‘Doctor Geiszler’ in bed. That’s just weird, Herms.”

Hermann sighed, “And I suppose you think ‘Herms’ is somehow an improvement?” 

“Definitely.” Newton said, before leaning down and bracing himself just above Hermann’s face with that goofy grin on his bright face. “Don’t you agree?”

Hermann wanted to say _not in the slightest_ , but couldn’t find it in himself to argue when Newton’s lips were just that close. He pushed himself up the final inch on his elbows, and sealed their mouths together. They kissed each other breathless, as Newton’s hands made their way up to tangle in Hermann’s hair. In response, Hermann made an approving noise that rattled through both their lips. He could feel Newton’s hips directly atop his own, and rutted up against him, trying to get _closer_. 

He could feel Newton’s pants, tented like his own, and the friction against him was _maddening_. His cock was fully hard – had been since he woke up to Newton on top of him, if he was being honest – and resisting the urge to thrust to prolong the experience was growing more and more difficult. 

Newton pulled back with a laugh: "Hey, hey, we should, like, be wearing less clothing." 

"I... could be amenable to that," Hermann managed to say. A very difficult task, as Newton's hands had already migrated to the top button of his own thin, white button-down shirt.

They had fallen asleep in whatever twice-worn rags they’d been wearing when “the apocalypse had been cancelled.” Though further crumpled and creased during the night, their clothes were still undeniably _on_. Nothing had happened. 

Yet. 

Hermann slipped the round, white fastening out of its buttonhole, revealing an inch of Newton’s lower neck. Hermann gathered his nerves, and stretched up to lick at the suprasternal notch as Newton pulled his shirt open to to reveal more of his upper chest. 

At the top, the skin was lightly tanned, and then there was a rim of paler skin just below Newton's collar. Further down, the skin darkened dramatically. 

Hermann's eyes were wide with surprise, staring at the top rim of the tattoo. It was the crest of a Kaiju skull, carved with delicate black ink lines into Newton's skin. 

Hermann realized Newton was trying to say something. 

"That– that's Trespasser, from the first attack, the one on San Fran in '13. I– I got it when I was just out of grad school, but I– Hermann, do they bother you? I mean, you've never seen– and they're kinda everywhere–" Newton's fast-paced, high-pitched tirade was stopped when he felt Hermann's tongue return to his chest. 

Hermann traced the raised ridge of the tattoo as it arced just beneath Newton's clavicle. His mind was tumbling over with doubt – he had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to find some way to show Newton that the tattoos, the extent of them, weren’t a deal-breaker. When he had outlined the entire skull with his tongue, he looked up at Newton's face, and said, "When I called you a 'Groupie,' I _wanted_ to incite a reaction from you." 

His 'r's still trilled abominably. 

"I do not think you are crazy," Hermann continued, "and while your... decoration is not something I appreciate on a philosophical level, I respect your decisions, Newton." 

By the end of this speech, Newton was staring at him, slack-jawed. When Newton made no sign of closing said mouth, Hermann went back to nuzzling all the tattoos on the man's chest which he could reach. Pulling apart the last fasteners of Newton's shirt, Hermann spread his hands over Newton's heavily-tattooed hips, and kissed his way down from belly button to waistband. 

Newton inhaled a sharp breath. Hermann looked up. Some look, some agreement passed between them, and then Hermann unfastened the hook of his black jeans, and drew down the zipper. 

And stopped. 

His instincts on the matter pretty much run dry, Hermann looked up at Newton and hoped with all he had that Newton would just _get it_ and Hermann wouldn’t have to _ask_. 

No luck. 

Newton looked confused – and a bit worried. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Hermann pushed himself up on the pillows a bit so Newton was essentially kneeling across his lap. “Nothing is ‘wrong,’ I simply don’t – _how do people ever do this?_ – what is it you are, I suppose, I should say– how would you prefer to do this?” 

It was perhaps the least coherent sentence Hermann had ever strung together. Newton answered it with a little embarrassed laugh. 

“Dude, you can’t guess? I always,” he said, “Well, I always thought I was pretty obvious.”

Hermann huffed, “I am a mathematician, not a psychologist. Though I do not need a degree in psychology to know _something_ is wrong with you.”

Newton only giggled again, “And you were being so nice only a minute ago, Hermy. Okay, what I’m getting from this is, you want me to take the helm?”

Nervousness coursed through Hermann’s body, but he knew that this was the only way to go about it. With a degree of awkwardness, he asked, “Should I, er, reposition myself? You will need, erm, access?”

Newton raised a single eyebrow. “I think we’re talking about two different things, Herms. I’m gonna be frank here – I’m pretty strictly a bottom. When I said, ‘take the helm,’ I meant I’d walk you through things, but make no mistake, Hermann: I want _you_ in _me_ , not the other way ‘round. And don’t think I didn’t feel you go all stiff and scared.” 

Hermann was about to splutter out a suspiciously specific denial, when Newton leaned down and kissed him again, hard. He felt Newton’s hands pulling at the buttons of his own dress shirt, working their way down to his slacks, gradually taking him all apart, but Hermann could focus on none of him, because Newton’s mouth had simply _invaded_ his own. 

By the time Newton let him go, he could do nothing more than flop back onto the pillows, breathless and exposed. He looked up, and realized that while Newton had been getting all of Hermann’s clothes opened, he’d fully taken off most of his own. 

Newton’s pants and underwear had been pulled completely off, tossed somewhere to be discovered later, and his white shirt was hanging off one shoulder, that ridiculous skinny tie still around his neck. 

But he wasn’t naked. His tattoos were a solid undershirt of patterns and color and monsters. The skeletal beast on his chest trailed all the way down, leading Hermann’s eyes to the ‘V’ of Newton’s thighs, where the images faded, and Newton’s cock sprung up from a patch of curly, dark hair. 

Hermann’s mouth dropped open. 

In response, Newton smiled in a very predatory fashion, and crawled back on top of Hermann’s thighs, resting his weight carefully on his own knees. 

“Do you have any lube?” he asked, a faux-innocent grin plastered over his perfect, curved cheeks. 

Hermann spluttered for a moment, before responding with a nod. He reached into the drawer of his bedside and pulled out a small bottle, and a loose condom packet as well. “I dislike mess,” he explained. 

“I get that,” Newton said, nodding, “and I’m getting you prepped first – it goes easier and neater that way, trust me.” Newton tore open the packet, and, after giving Hermann’s cock a few gentle pulls, rolled the condom on.

Already, Hermann was breathing harshly; the feel of Newton’s hand on his cock, even for those few seconds, had him trembling and excited. 

“And now I’m going to prep myself,” Newton continued in the same encouraging voice. He was braced over Hermann’s thighs, weight resting on his own spread legs and one hand. The other hand – Hermann gulped – the other hand was slick with lube, and moving down, down between Newton’s legs. 

Hermann couldn’t see much from where he lay caught below Newton, but he could see the blissful expressions chase themselves across the man’s expressive face. He assumed Newton had this part of the process handled, so he contented himself with running his fingers along Newton’s neck, and up to touch his nose and cheeks and lips. 

Newton allowed this, grinning. 

After a few more moments, Newton leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Hermann’s lips. “Ready, Hermann?” he asked.

Hermann nodded. He could feel Newton readjusting, pulling himself up so that his knees bracketed Hermann’s hips, letting his hands trail down to hold Hermann’s sides. 

And then one of Newton’s hands was clasping him, holding his cock upright, and then there was a gorgeous, tight heat. 

Hermann gasped, his head falling back with the absolute pleasure of it. He struggled desperately not to simply _pull_ Newton down harder. Meanwhile, Newton was squirming slightly and laughing. “God, you have no idea how _perfect_ your face is when you do that,” Newton was saying, “C’mon, dude, your turn to do the work!” 

As Hermann registered this, his cock twitched and he looked back up. Newton was looking at him expectantly, so he held onto the man’s thighs and thrusted. 

The noise Newton let out was exquisite: a bit of a gasp and a bit of a moan. He whispered into Hermann’s neck, “Ah! Right– right _there_ ,” so Hermann rolled his hips again and again, ringing more noises out of Newton’s beautiful, ravaged mouth. Every movement was wonderful; Hermann could feel Newton clenching around him, and it was _heaven_. 

Hermann realized that Newton, to keep his weight off Hermann’s legs, had resorted to having both arms braced against the bed, so Hermann moved one of his own hands to Newton’s cock. He stroked in time with his thrusts, and from the noises Newton was making now – loud, full-throated groans – Hermann guessed he’d done it right. 

They built up a rhythm this way – _thrust_ , stroke, groan from Newton, lift, gasp from Hermann, _thrust_ , stroke – and it went on until Newton broke the silence, hunching over and moaning, “God, Hermann, gonna– I’m so close...”

Until that moment, Hermann hadn’t realized how near his own climax was. “I have you, Newton,” he gasped between breaths, “I am with you, Newt.” He thrust up harder, and with the hand that wasn’t pulling on Newt’s cock, he gripped at Newt’s hip mercilessly. 

With one last movement of their connected hips, Newt cried out and spilled over Hermann’s abdomen. Hermann only grimaced at the mess for a moment before the pressure of Newt squeezing and trembling around him brought him over the edge also. 

It was bright and shining, and it seemed to sparkle in the places where his mind had been connected to Newt’s, little loving flickers at the connection. 

It was Newt’s eyes when he knew he was onto something. 

Hermann opened his eyes, and was greeted by the sight of Newt, now-relaxed body still around him, carefully cleaning his own spending off Hermann’s stomach with the sleeve of the abused white shirt he had been wearing. Newt looked up from his task and smiled at Hermann. “All clean!” he proclaimed, licking the last of his come from around Hermann’s navel. 

Hermann shivered happily, and pulled Newton into his arms to kiss him. 

Sometime soon, they would have to pack up their rooms in the Shatterdome base, and move out, find new jobs, help out with rebuilding life minus the alien monsters. Hermann fervently hoped Newt would agree to stay with him – they could surely find a university in need of a mathematician and a biologist. Pentecost had ensured they had the best recommendations he could give them before he’d left. 

But those were thoughts for another day. 

Today, they had won. 

Today, Hermann held Newt firmly, and kissed his forehead, and they fell asleep again, together, naked beneath the sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely the most explicit thing I've ever written, and I'm flying solo without my beta, who's super busy with real life commitments, so I'd love feedback on how this turned out. 
> 
> Thank you for reading; these guys just really spoke to me, you know? Kudos, del Toro, on an excellent movie that respects its characters.


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